Trapped with the Devil
1092 Words
Chapter 3 — Trapped with the Devil
(Dual POV — Aria & Damian)
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Aria’s POV
My first thought was pain.
My second was silence.
And my third… was him.
I blinked against the dim golden light, the heavy weight of velvet blankets pressing against me. The scent hit me first — cedar, leather, expensive cologne — and then reality followed.
I wasn’t in my apartment.
I wasn’t even in my office.
I shot upright, heart hammering, only to wince as sharp pain knifed through my shoulder.
“Don’t move,” a voice drawled softly. “You’ll reopen the stitches.”
I turned toward the source — and nearly forgot how to breathe.
Damian Blackwood leaned casually against the glass railing of a mezzanine-level loft, his black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms dusted with dried blood.
My throat tightened. “Where… where am I?”
“My place,” he said simply, pushing off the railing and walking toward me with the kind of quiet confidence that made the air heavier with each step.
I glanced around the penthouse — the sweeping floor-to-ceiling windows, the glittering cityscape beyond, the minimalist décor in shades of obsidian and steel. It wasn’t just beautiful. It was power.
“You kidn*pped me,” I accused, clutching the blanket to my chest.
He arched a brow, stopping just short of my bed. “You were unconscious after the ambush. Would you have preferred I left you bleeding on your office floor?”
The sharp retort died on my lips.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, pulling a chair closer and sitting, elbows resting on his knees.
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Damian’s POV
She looked fragile in my bed — pale from shock, shoulder bandaged, her wide hazel eyes flicking between me and the skyline behind me as if searching for an escape route.
I didn’t blame her.
I was the devil she’d been warned about.
But fragility was deceiving. Even injured, she radiated defiance — chin lifted, body tense, lips pressed tight as though daring me to cross a line.
“You should rest,” I said evenly. “Victor won’t try anything again tonight.”
Her gaze snapped to mine. “Victor,” she repeated, her voice sharp. “Who is he? And why did he send people with guns into my office?”
I debated lying. It would’ve been easy. But something in her expression — stubborn, unyielding — told me she wouldn’t forgive a half-truth.
“My former business partner,” I said finally. “Now a problem I intend to eliminate.”
She flinched slightly at my choice of words but didn’t look away. Brave little thing.
“And me?” she demanded. “What am I to you in this… war of yours?”
I leaned back, letting silence stretch between us before answering, softly but deliberately:
“The one thing Victor doesn’t get to touch.”
Her breath caught.
I hadn’t intended for it to sound like a promise. But it was one anyway.
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Aria’s POV
My mind was a storm, but my body betrayed me — heart racing, skin prickling under the weight of his words.
I should have been furious. Terrified. Desperate to get out of here.
Instead, part of me hated how safe I felt.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” I managed, forcing steel into my voice. “Why involve me at all? I’m just your lawyer.”
His lips curved in something dangerously close to a smile. “Not anymore.”
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re in this now, Aria,” he said softly, leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees. “Victor knows your name. That makes you leverage.”
The word hit me like ice water.
“Leverage,” I repeated hollowly.
“Yes,” he said. “Which is why you’re staying here.”
I laughed bitterly. “I’m not staying here. I’m going home.”
His gaze locked on mine, dark and unyielding. “No, you’re not.”
The quiet authority in his tone made my skin prickle.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I snapped.
“I do,” he said simply, leaning back, crossing one ankle over his knee. “Because the moment you walk out that door, you’re dead.”
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Damian’s POV
I could see the fury brewing behind her eyes — a storm threatening to break. But beneath it, I caught something else too.
Fear.
She tried to mask it behind bravado, but I saw the tremor in her hands, the way her breath hitched when I mentioned Victor.
“You think I’m exaggerating,” I said quietly. “I’m not. Victor doesn’t leave loose ends.”
Her chin lifted stubbornly. “Then maybe I should walk away from this case. From you.”
I smiled faintly — humorless. “You think walking away changes anything? You’ve seen too much, Aria. You’re already in this, whether you want to be or not.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. She hated admitting I was right.
“Stay here,” I said softly. “At least until I deal with him.”
She hesitated, glancing toward the massive glass doors leading to the balcony, city lights glittering like a trap beyond them.
Finally, she whispered, “I don’t trust you.”
I leaned closer, lowering my voice until it brushed the shell of her ear like smoke.
“You don’t have to trust me,” I murmured. “You just have to stay alive.”
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Aria’s POV
I didn’t sleep. Not even after he left me alone.
Every sound — the hum of the city, the soft click of distant footsteps — felt amplified, like danger could slip through the glass walls at any second.
I wrapped the blanket tighter around myself, pacing the edge of the bed, weighing my options.
I couldn’t stay here.
But I couldn’t leave, either.
Damian Blackwood was a contradiction I couldn’t untangle — protector and predator, savior and sinner, obsession and warning.
And worse…
I was starting to want to understand him.
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Cliffhanger Ending
The sharp sound of shattering glass jolted me upright.
It wasn’t from inside the penthouse.
It came from above.
Before I could even process, the lights flickered violently — and Damian’s voice roared from somewhere down the hall:
“Aria, stay in the bedroom!”
I turned toward the door.
And froze.
Because someone was already inside the room.
- Writer
